


Slapworthy

by CeleryLapel



Series: Poor Judgment [9]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, F/M, Humor, Mild Language, Romance, Slapping, bruncan, peek into duncan's kinks but only a peek this is still pretty pg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23636512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeleryLapel/pseuds/CeleryLapel
Summary: Britta and Ian have the talk
Relationships: Ian Duncan/Britta Perry
Series: Poor Judgment [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/497782
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Slapworthy

**Author's Note:**

> And we’re back, dear readers! It’s been awhile since I’ve shown this series some love. The Community fandom resurgence has inspired ol’Celery to get back to important things. As always, no need to be familiar with the larger work. In EIB, this takes place Part 4, Ch.9.
> 
> Last we left off: Britta’s still hesitant, Duncan’s pretty smitten.
> 
> Summer, 2012

So there were some developments. She didn’t know what else to call them, really. She tried to tell herself none of it was a big deal. So what if she and Ian were continuing on their bike rides this summer and it was really fun? So what if they maintained avoidance of exclusivity talk but were pretty obviously just seeing each other? So what if she was now spending a few nights a week with him rather than her place with Troy and Abed? So what if Abed had been making meta comments about Britta’s tendency to self-sabotage? 

So what if Ian and Kevin had now moved into a two bedroom apartment and they had more privacy? 

It wasn’t like it changed anything really, even if Kevin kept saying it Chang-ed everything. She had to keep telling him to stop calling her Mommy, and she swore she’d cease coming over if he continued, so he had sulked and gone back to his room. Later that evening, he had emerged with a drawing of three stick figures. There was a taller entity with glasses, one with curly yellow hair, and a much smaller person with straight black hair and flip flops. Next to them were scribbles of red and black and white blobs.

“What are these?” She studied the paper as she remained curled up on the living room couch. Ian had been on the phone in their (his!) bedroom, discussing some matter with the Dean about Garrett. No one ever knew what to do about Garrett, but somehow they persisted in trying to save him.

Kevin hung his head lower and watched her out of the corner of his eye as he replied, “The red ones are the hermit crabs.”

“Ahh. And these?” She pointed to the other blobs.

“Those are Daniel, Mister Walter Whiskers, and Jelly Belly.”

She was taken off guard by a rush of emotion in her chest. Gulping, she said, “You know the names of my cats?”

“Of course I do, Mommy.”

“Britta.”

“Right. Sorry. Of course I do, Britta.”

X

X

“We need to talk.”

Ian sighed and muttered something about primal screeching therapy for Garrett, so she stopped him by taking his hand. That did it, and he now provided her with his most undivided attention. They sat on the bed, and she was determined to get ahead of things for once instead of letting stuff just happen. That would show Abed. She was no longer self-sabotaging.

“What is it?”

She took a deep breath and steadied herself and tried to not focus on his adorable dimples. Then she went for it.

“We need to make sure Kevin knows who I am. He keeps thinking we’re some sort of family.” She thrust the drawing in front of him, her eyes growing wide as she tilted her head for emphasis.

Ian let out a low whistle and then disentangled his hand to properly hold the paper. He studied it for a moment before exclaiming in a clinical tone, “He’s just telling us what he sees.”

“But we’re not.”

“Well, I mean, not technically, but we’re here all together love, and it just seems…”

\--”I told you to stop using that word!”

“It’s just an expression!” He stared at her, clearly exasperated. They had disagreed on this particular  _ expression _ for the past couple months, and it was obvious it wasn’t going to stop now.

Scrunching up her face, she considered her options. She didn’t need to be pushed into anything. She was an independent woman, and the last time she had declared her love for someone, it had been Subway. And that had been a tragic mistake. It had really hurt Ian’s feelings, and she still felt a spiral of self-loathing about the whole thing.

Aloud, she said, “I need more time.”

Pursing his lips, he nodded, and she could tell he was irritated, and most likely hurt. 

“I understand.”

X

X

A few days later, shit really hit the fan. There had been a horrible birthday party where the whole gang gathered, and Britta had the experience of meeting Annie’s mom, the infamous Rachel Edlestein Edison. Turns out Rachel was just as pretty as Annie, with long flowing dark hair and intense eyes, even if they were brown, that still looked out on life as if they were Annie’s. And then there was the prominent cleavage, which Britta thought was more than inappropriate for the occasion, but then she internally admonished herself, remembering feminism.

It wasn’t until Ian had been receptive to Rachel’s enticements, had she lost it. She tried to tell herself that technically there was nothing wrong with Ian flirting, as she had refused to confirm they were only seeing each other.

But still. Flashes of Jeff and Annie making out came to mind. Although she was one hundred percent sure that she and Jeff’s paintball tumble had been a colossal mistake, the fact that he had gone from her to Annie in such a short period of time still made her kind of sick. Sure, she loved Annie and would never let her know, but…

Still.

It was a sore spot, and watching Ian chat up Annie’s mother was hard. And then there was the laughing and the coziness of it all.

She couldn’t stop herself from confronting him, and the resulting iciness cast a bit of a gloom over the party.

X

X

The next day, they sat across each other in a booth at the Easy Rider, a bar on the east side of town. Both of them had cooled down since the party, and Ian had been more than a little sheepish at the idea of them getting everything all out. She had asked him to meet her, and although a dreadful pit was forming in his stomach, he maintained his anger. He was certainly allowed to talk with other women, and while he wasn’t actually interested in dating Annie’s obviously personality-disordered-mum, he had admired the view. The fact that she had also been receptive and warm as he conveyed interest had been crucial. He had been feeling so very lonely when it came to reciprocation of affection.

And to watch Britta whisper all cozily with Jeff had been difficult to tolerate. He was no chump, and he had noticed them having more frequent private conversations lately. Britta had even hid her phone once after a text. Sure, Jeff seemed happy with Annie, but he was not at all convinced that he wouldn’t be above indulging Britta’s whims of tending to be attracted to the wrong men.

He had also not failed to notice her interactions with Annie’s former neighbor Thanos Dildopolis. The coy smile, the brush of her hair, the laughter. He had heard Thanos was married, but he didn’t see a wife, and he had also not realized how handsome the man was. Britta had mentioned him a few times in the past, having met him long ago, but he hadn’t connected the dots until seeing him in the flesh. She clearly had a crush, and it was once again proof that Britta had a type. 

A type that wasn’t nearly as doughy or nerdy as him.

Britta tapped the table, her eyes darting around, and he waited. His ginger ale was damn fantastic, and he didn’t see a reason to help her out. Afterall, she was the one who had been in the wrong. Just because he had been angry, didn’t mean he had made a mistake. Still, he internally pleaded with her not to break up with him.

Finally, she groaned to break the silence.

“Come on, you always start these conversations!”

He smirked and then took one long slurp of his nonalcoholic drink before gently placing it on the table. He clasped his hands and leaned forward slightly, pushing down the bile of dread that perhaps they would end up breaking up and then considered his next words.

“I fail to see what you want me to say. You made a scene yesterday, and here you are, no apology offered.” He glanced down and hoped she had noticed he had worn his best sweater vest. What he lacked in traditional masculine features he tried to make up in professor nerd chic. It had usually worked on her.

She was scoffing and started moving her hands about wildly, the way she did when she knew she was wrong about something but couldn't admit it.

“ _ I _ made a scene?!? You’re the one who was a whore!”

He tapped his fist on the table and cleared his throat. 

Stomping down a stammer, he said, “I would hardly call my behavior whorish. I did not act out of the stipulations of our relationship. I have nothing to apologize for. I can flirt with women.”

She squinted at him, and he suspected she didn’t have much to say in response. She then leaned back and crossed her arms. It was classic Perry defensive technique and he readied himself for a peak at vulnerability.

She sighed, “Fine. I know I’ve been maybe a little ridiculous. I’m sorry I yelled at you, but it was awful to see you get all close to Annie’s mom. It’s weird, and it made me feel bad.”

“Bad...how?”

“Upset.”

He needed more. He needed her to say it.

“Jealous?”

She scowled and mumbled, “No, I mean I don’t have any right to be jealous.”

Raising his brows and nodding very slowly, he explained, “Because we’re not exclusive. That’s what you wanted.”

“Right. But look, I…”

He couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to get this over with. He interjected, ”Not only was I perfectly justified in flirting, I can also  _ sleep _ with other women. In fact, I could sleep with  _ hundreds _ of other women!” He nodded defiantly, and gave her his best maniacal gap-toothed expression.

It was then that she lunged across the table and slapped him. It wasn’t the hardest he had ever been hit, but it was certainly the most titillating. 

Her eyes were wide, and he could tell she had been not only surprised by her behavior but also by her emotion. She then glanced down and took a big gulp of air. 

It was more than he dared dream. A bona fide slap, and although he was slightly remorseful it hadn’t been on his ass in a more erotic context, he considered it was real progress. He had often asked her to do it, and she had always refused. He was growing on her, and he wanted her to admit it.

Even so, he instinctively shirked back a little as she raised her head.

Lifting her chin defiantly, she yell-whispered if there was such a thing, “Fine! Then we can be exclusive!” Her eyes were lit with something that he dared hope was desire.

Feeling a rush of giddiness through his core, he tried to downplay it but couldn’t stop the grin. Her lip was trembling and she smiled slightly in response, which he found to be encouraging. 

“Exclusive? As in we only see each other?”

“Yeah, um, I haven’t been seeing anyone else anyway. Have you?”

“You know perfectly well I have not.”

His heart skipped another beat.

She took a deep breath and said, “Great. Then, exclusive. And I’m sorry I slapped you. I don’t know why I did that.” She looked down once again, and then peeked to await his reaction.

He nodded and leaned forward, noticing her visible wince of shame. He reached for her hand, and she let him take it. He was wondering if he should go all out and just tell her how he felt. He had been hiding behind the  _ expression _ for months now, and he so desperately wanted to tell her outright.

He opened his mouth, intent on the words following, when she interrupted.

“Um, I need to make a call.”

“Now, why on earth…?”

She took her hand back and said with an apologetic smile, “I’m kind of in the middle of something, but I do want to see you. Soon. Today soon. I just have to do something first. Maybe we can get together? I’ve gotta go out back in the alley and…” She held her phone up to her ear, stood and waved awkwardly, and then ran out the back of the pub.

  
  


X

X

“Britta called me.” 

Jeff was staring at him across the booth and had by now procured a drink while eyeing the ginger ale with skepticism.

“Ahh.” Ian shrugged and awaited the likely scolding.

“She knew we needed to hash some things out. So she said I could have you when she was done with you.”

Ian considered that it was an evil trick. She knew how twisted the situation had become, his continual efforts to compartmentalize his relationships with Jeff, Jeff’s mother, and the rest of Greendale. It had been terribly awkward yesterday when Jeff had realized that he had long ago introduced his mother to a certain faculty member. 

He winced. “Bloody woman.”

“So is she  _ done _ with you?”

“No.”

He couldn’t really believe it either, but he thanked his lucky stars that even if his best friend were royally angry at him, he now had a girlfriend. 

Britta Perry was his girlfriend. He felt an inward elation and tried to contain it, for by the look on Jeff’s face, it was now not the time.

They proceeded to have words about friendship and betrayal. And he may have also interjected mention of the slap and exclusivity talk, merely for completist purposes and not so that dear Jeffery could suck it.

X

X

“Don’t you want your mum to be happy?”

Jeff slammed down the rest of his drink. He seemed conflicted, which told Ian that he had been successful in persuading him that he was not treating his mum with very much respect. It was also a handy way to deflect from getting one’s nose punched a la Ben Chang first year and getting slapped.

He tried to push down his boner as he remembered the slap.

Jeff was saying, “You know what, Ian? We are done with this subject. I need to find Britta.”

He raised his brows at this comment, his jealousy slightly returning. He said, “Well I have no bloody idea where she is, obviously. Although I am a tad concerned I may have missed out on a Perry clue that I’m supposed to find her in the alley and shag her senseless.”

Jeff gave a tight smile and stood, likely making an internal effort to not picture such a moment. Ian considered this real progress. He was not in the mood to indulge much of Jeff’s usual patronizing tone and had his mind on other things. Alleys and things.

He lifted his head from discretely staring at his once again strained trousers and asked, “Why do you need to find her?”

Jeff sighed, “We were supposed to do lunch, but never decided where. That’s why I initially thought she wanted me to come here, but whatever.” He glanced around the pub with a bored countenance.

“Lunch?” Ian opened his eyes wide, knowing it was often too much for Jeff to resist. He and Annie had a few things in common. He almost considered fluttering his lashes but decided that would be overkill.

“You’re not invited.”

He was slightly deflated, but per his usual refusal to let anyone stop him, he asked, “Secrets? You two have been mighty cozy, with all the whispering yesterday.”

Jeff let out an exasperated sigh. “If you must know, Britta is helping me with something. I’ll fill you in later once it’s done.”

He turned to go, but Ian suddenly realized Jeff’s word choice and needed to follow up. He knew Britta’s talents and could only really come to one conclusion.

“Oh, you mean the proposal?”

Jeff spun around and stared at him.

Booyah.

“How did you…?”

Now relaxing the constriction around his heart, he explained, “Britta’s the logical person to ask, outside of Mrs. Bennett whom I would assume you’d steer clear of due to her overly religious and judgy values. Britta has a knack for this sort of thing, and she could probably plan her own wedding down to the doves and ice sculptures.” He felt a rush of heat in his throat as he added, “If she ever got married, of course, but…” 

With a roll of his eyes, Jeff interjected, “Whoa there, sickly tiger. Stick to being  _ exclusive  _ with her for at least two days before you propose.”

They stared at one another, and Ian was once again cognizant of a swirling of feelings. He wanted to tell her, yet everything was so delicate. And yet he was now deemed slapworthy.

He made a shooing gesture. “Go find Britta. And when you two are done with your lunch, please be sure to tell me where she’s going next. I’ll surprise her.”

“Right.” 

X

X

It was about five minutes since he had seen Jeff drive off, and although his first inkling was to go home, he remembered his earlier question of if he were missing out on some sort of Perry code to rendezvous in the alley.

Figuring there was little harm on venturing out there if he were wrong, he popped his head out and took in the sickenly humid air along with the wafts of fried potatoes and cheese.

God, sometimes he missed England.

He spotted the outline of curly tresses and pouty lips, and he was a goner. He walked up to her, and at his approach, she guiltily tossed her cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. 

“Hello there, my exclusive girlfriend.”

She smiled at him, and it was the warmest expression he had seen in his life. He stepped closer and kissed her, not minding that she tasted of tobacco, for he had his mind on more important matters.

As they pulled apart, she blushed, and he wiggled his eyebrows.

She began to lightly trace his sideburns as she explained, “I told Jeff I’d meet him for lunch at that place across town, you know that one cafe we went to last week.”

“Ahh. So should I leave then?”

“I have a few minutes.”

He started to say it, but then stopped himself. Now was not the time and now was not the setting. 

So he shagged her senseless. It was the only thing to do.

  
  
  
  


(fade to black, my dear readers)

  
  
  
  
  


  
  



End file.
